


Blinding Lights

by QueenOfTheMerryMen



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-18 04:38:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13674429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfTheMerryMen/pseuds/QueenOfTheMerryMen
Summary: Ever since she was ten-years old Regina Mills has wanted nothing more than to sing. Fifteen years later she's one of the biggest upcoming stars in the music industry... but only at the cost of her soul. Pushed by her overbearing momager she's forced to sing under the name of her red-headed alter ego Queenie, hiding her true self for the blinding lights of fame. Until the worst night of her life when she meets a man who gives her the courage to find her true voice.





	Blinding Lights

She still remembers the first time she sung in front of a crowd. Oh, she’d been petrified. 

 

Only ten years old, she’d been dragged around the night before by her mother, desperately searching for an open salon, with someone competent enough to tame her wild curls.Her mother had given it a try on her own with no luck at all and it wasn’t as if she could show up at the contest looking so unruly, Cora had said so repeatedly. It was almost nine thirty when they finally found a kind woman who stayed open late to straighten out her curls and give them both advice on how to maintain it for the next day. 

 

She’d nervously toyed with the end of her newly straightened locks as she stood backstage in her new dress watching all the other contestants go ahead of her. All the tap dancers and baton twirlers, even another singer or two. Her gut had swirled as she took them in. It felt like there was no way she could measure up. 

 

When it was finally her turn, she’d timidly stepped onstage, tensely straightening her spine when she saw her mother gesture for her to correct her posture. Hearing her heart pound in her ears, she’d stood in front of the mic, looked out at all those terrifying expectant faces and waited for the music. 

 

Then it started. She heard the first few notes of  _ Be That As It May _ and it was like a switch went off inside her. Her heart calmed down and her nerves went quiet. She closed her eyes, started to sing and she’d never felt more at home. The music just flowed out of her like it’d been living in there in a pocket she didn’t even know she had. And letting out, set her free. 

 

_ I will not forget the love you gave.  _

 

By the end of the song, most of the crowd was on their feet and her face felt like it could split from how hard she was smiling. She’d let them say her name one last time before running off stage into the arms of her mother, who immediately kissed her on the forehead and whispered how well she’d done. 

 

Looking back, she knew that was the moment she’d truly fell in love with music. 

 

Surprising… considering how quickly it all went to shit. 

 

She’d stood on stage, one of three final contestants, and beamed when a judge handed her a second place trophy that was damn near half her size. Then she’d looked out into the crowd, hoping to see her mother’s proud face. All she found was anger. Cora’s face had gone so red when she realized that she didn’t win first place. She still remembers the shade actually. It was the same color of the fabric of their salmon colored drapes when the light passed through them. Before that day she didn’t even know people could turn so red with anger. 

 

In a flash, her mother stalked up and ripped her from the stage, the judge hadn’t even announced the first place winner before they were out the doors. Cora had been viciously cursing the judges as they trudged toward the bus stop, complaining to herself about how robbed she had been and how untalented the other girls were. The whole time Regina had rushed to keep up with her angry stride, trying not to whine at her mother’s tight grip. 

 

When they’d finally reached the bus stop, Cora halted and let out a sharp breath. Then she’d turned to look down at her daughter, who was still shaking as she clutched the trophy to her chest as she looked up at her mother with sad eyes. 

 

Cora clenched her jaw before kneeling down to her eye level. She jerked her chin toward the trophy. “Put it in the trash, Regina.” 

 

The ends of her lips began to dip into a frown. “Why?” she asked, her voice small and shaky. 

 

Cora narrowed her eyes at her. “Do you want to be a runner up or do you want to be a winner?” 

 

Her throat grew tight as she saw the harshness in her mother’s brown eyes, the strictness in her tone hit her like bullets. She knew there was only one acceptable answer. 

 

As they climbed into the seats on the bus, she leaned her head against the window, keeping her eyes trained on the top of her trophy as it stuck out of the bus stop trash can. 

 

It’s almost funny when you think about it. 

 

The same day she discovered her voice was the very same day that she lost it. 

 

\--------------------

 

**15 YEARS LATER**

 

Everything around her is suffocatingly loud but that’s how things are at award shows.  

 

They’re rushing her and Hook through the throngs of people running around backstage and she can hear their song pulsing through every speaker. If she was close to the stage she knows she’d see clips from their music video,  _ Kneel _ ,  on the big screen playing for the audience. She can hear the crowd screaming with approval as they watch her gyrate to the same song that’s been playing on every station in the country for the past five months, or so she’s been told. 

 

Some stagehand with a headset attached to his ear shouts directions at them as he guides their entourage to the side of the stage where they’ll wait for their names to be called. She doesn’t listen to a word he says. Honestly, she doesn’t have to. She knows Cora will catch it all for her. Her mother is by her side as always, looking sharp in her suit, remaining vigilant and ready to curse out any and all mistakes should they be made. Sometimes it strikes Regina, how comforting that should be… even though it isn’t.  

 

Still struggling to keep up with the stagehand, she silently curses her stylist for forcing her to wear these damn 4 inch heels. Between that and the shreds of fabric she dared to call a dress every step she’s taken, every move she’s made has made her heart skip a beat, and not in a good way. It feels like she could walk past a mirror and suddenly realize that she’s not wearing any clothes at all. But again she tries to tell herself that it just the nerves talking. 

 

Finally they reach the edge of the stage and before she can even take a breath there’s a brush pressed against her cheek and hands tugging at her side. It takes her a moment to remember it’s just Cora and the make up artist making sure she’s stage ready, as always. Her breath catches in her throat when she feels her mother tug on the neckline of her dress to show off more cleavage, but the complaint dies on her lips like they all do. 

 

Her mother gives her a quick peck on the side of her head so she won’t ruin her makeup then falls to the side. Hook’s arm goes around her then. He looks down at her then, suspiciously lifting an eyebrow. 

 

“You alright, Queenie?” 

 

She forces a smile to her face and nods. “I’m good. Just nervous,” he lies. 

 

He grins at her - that same lecherous, condescending grin that somehow manages to make teen girls and grown woman fall at his feet for reasons she can’t understand - before leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Don’t worry, love. I’ll do all the talking.” 

 

She lets out a soft giggle to mask the swirling in her gut, because of course he will. This will be Hook’s fourth Billboard award, it’s only her first. Makes sense that he would talk. It’s good. She’s barely up and coming. No one would want to hear what she had to say anyway. It’s fine. It’s all fine. 

 

The presenter calls out their name for the award, and she squares her shoulders and bares her teeth before strutting out onstage as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. She flips the ends of her red ombre locks, blowing a kiss to the crowd as she and Hook happily take their awards. Keeping a smile on her face, she tries not to let the stage lights or weight on her chest distract her as she listens to him charmingly thank all his fans before letting her get a small word in. In the end she does pretty much the same. She thanks all the people who listened, compliments the crowd and smiles. Just like she’s been told. 

 

It’s over in a flash and they’re returned to their seats, awards in hand. The next hour is a bit of blur. She stays until the end of the of the award show, clapping for every performance and presentation but all she could really focus on was the weight of the small trophy sitting in her lap. It should feel light as a feather but it felt like it was sinking her into the ground. 

 

Walking to her car after the award show, she let it hang in her hand as she listened to everyone’s rambunctious cheers of the entourage around her. Hook’s arm is still around her shoulder, tugging her closer, forcing the sounds of his loud whoops deeper into her ear. 

 

“You comin’ to the afterparty love?” she hears him ask. 

 

Keeping a smile on her face, she shakes her head. “I got an early meeting with the label.” 

 

He rolls his eyes, probably around tipsy from the liquor his friends have been passing around. “Please, you made that label. They should be kissing your ass after tonight. You’re telling me they won’t forgive one hangover…” 

 

“She’s going to the afterparty.” 

 

Regina’s smile dips a bit at the sound of Cora’s matter-of-fact tone. “I am?” she asks, turning to her mother. 

 

Cora nods, looking up from her cell phone. “The award’s a good start but I need your face all over the internet so we can have some leverage with the label.” 

 

Before Regina can even think of a dissenting opinion her mother’s phone rings. By the devious glint in her eye, Regina can tell it’s the label calling to congratulate her on the win. She also knows her mother will use to gain every cent she can. 

 

Cora pats her on the shoulder, not taking her eyes off the cellphone. “I have to take a call from Leo but I’ll be right behind you Queenie.” 

 

She falls back allowing Regina to swept ahead by her entourage, who seems thrilled by her sudden change in plans. But her chest feels heavy at the thought of another night of pulsing club music and flashing lights when all she wants to do is sleep. 

 

Finally they reach the valet and she can hear the sound of crowds at the edge of the street, and the flashing of lights as the paparazzi snaps photos of them leaving. She holds her breath knowing what’s coming next. 

 

Hook presses an exaggerated kiss to her lips, and the crowd goes wild. She plays her part - it’s honestly not that hard, he’s actually a decent kisser - but the taste of rum on his lips puts her stomach in twists. 

 

He pulls away, dropping another peck to her cheek before whispering in her ear. “Make sure you wear something sexy, alright?” 

 

“When don’t I?” she flirts, as both their cars pull up. 

 

He sends her one more grin before hopping in his Lamborghini and peeling off with his friends. She watches him drive off for a second before focusing on the shouts of the crowd. They’re calling for her. 

 

_ Queenie! Queenie! Queenie!  _

 

She doesn’t want to go over there, but they’re her fans. How would it look if she ignored them? 

 

_ Play the part.  _

 

Plastering another a smile on her face, she walks over to the edge of the crowd. Within seconds, the different magazines have been shoved in her face for autographs. She falters a bit when she sees the cover, that damn Rolling Stone cover that has her laying across a throne in little more than metal chain underwear and a fake crown, displayed for all the world to see under the words  _ Watch the Queen Reign _ . She hated it so much and it’d been on the newstands for weeks now, following her everywhere she went, reminding her that this is what people paid to see from her, this is who they wanted her to be. The Queen. 

 

She signs a few magazines, poses for a few selfies and listens to them scream how much they love her before finally climbing into the Escalade that will shuttle her back to her hotel. The driver turns on the radio and she has to keep from groaning when she hears the opening notes to  _ Kneel  _ come through the speaker. Her styling team whoops it up, dancing in the backseat and passing around champagne as she sits ahead of them, staring down at the award in her lap, trying to ignore everything around and inside her. 

 

The bass of the music smashes against her skull as she reads the words engraved on her trophy. 

 

**Best New Pop Single**

**_“Kneel”_ **

**Hook featuring Queenie**

 

Looking down at it, she remembers another trophy. The first one she ever got, the one her mother had forced her to throw in the trash. She remembers it and she wonders why she’d felt more proud of a 2nd place trophy from a community talent show than the Billboard Award that’s currently sitting in her lap. After how hard she worked, and all that she’d sacrificed, how did that cast away trophy still manage to feel like everything while this feels like nothing. 

 

She takes a deep breath, trying to bury the emptiness spreading through her chest and reaches in the back seat to snatch one of the champagne bottles from her team. They all laugh in surprise when she recklessly uncorks it, spilling the bubbles all over the seat. She’d never really been allowed to drink - Cora had said the empty calories in champagne make you fat and stupid - but what the hell. She’d won an award, they’re forcing her to go to this after party… might as well start now. 

 

\------------------------

 

Robin always hated babysitting. He’d despised it as a teenager and he hated it even more as a police officer. 

 

Standing in the hotel hallway, guarding an empty room he silently cursed John for saddling him with this lame shift but he took it back seconds later. It had been John’s anniversary and he was the one who offered to take the shift off his hands. Besides, other than boredom, he really had no reason to complain. Gigs like this were always easy money. Just a few hours standing outside a celebrity’s hotel room, making sure they weren’t bothered by crazy fans. Piece of cake. And it’s not like he couldn’t use the money. 

 

He hadn’t even seen the woman he was supposed to be guarding. All he knew was that she was some big name pop star with red streaks in her hair, supposedly the next big thing. He listened to a song of hers before he showed up but it wasn’t his style. Too much bass and autotune for his liking. 

 

After three hours of guarding an empty room, the elevator at the end of the hall finally dinged. He looked up in time to see her step out into the hallway. She was stunning, he’d give her that but she was also clearly drunk. The flaming red ends of her otherwise midnight hair bounced against her shoulders as she swayed in her heels, making her way toward the room, flanked by what he assumed were two members of her entourage, an asian woman and a redhead. She walked forward slowly,stumbling a bit,  looking blankly ahead as if she was seeing nothing. Swinging lazily in her right hand was a trophy of some sort. Robin remembered that she was supposed to be coming from an award show or something like that. It appeared that she’d won. 

 

As she walked up to the room, she hardly noticed his presence until he spoke up. 

 

“Congratulations,” he mumbled just loud enough for her to hear. 

 

She looked at him then, as if she’d hadn’t even realized he was there. When they locked eyes, something inside him, something small but loud, went on alert. Her eyes were a dark chocolate brown. So deep but so seemingly empty. It struck him. 

 

She looked away from him, reaching for the door handle and muttering under her breath. “No one comes in after me.” 

 

He’d barely gotten out a soft “okay” before she was shutting the door in his face and the faces of her team members, who appeared more than a little surprised by her attitude. The lock clicked behind her and they stared up at him expectantly. 

 

“We need to get in there,” said the red head, gesturing toward the door. 

 

He narrowed his eyes at her, but didn’t move toward the door. According to what he signed, he only took orders from one person and she’d just demanded some privacy. 

 

“Look she didn’t mean us,” argued the other woman, rolling her eyes. “We’ve got twenty minutes ‘til the first afterparty. We don’t have time for your stalling.” 

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. He might be a babysitter for the evening but that didn’t mean he had to be a shitty one. If the woman wanted the rest of her entourage in the room she’d let them in herself. 

 

The elevator dinged again, this time an older woman in an expensive suit and strict bun came walked into the hallway. She took one look at the two women in the hall and scrunched her eyebrows in frustration. “The party starts in twenty, what are you doing out here?” 

 

The redheaded woman rolled her eyes. “She went in there without us and now the cop thinks he’s the bodyguard.” 

 

The older took one derisive look at him and sighed tiredly before turning back to the girls and gesturing toward the elevator. “Look, go and get something to eat, come back in ten. I’ll see what the hell she’s doing.” 

 

The two women shared a look before nonchalantly shrugging their shoulders and heading toward the elevator. Once they were out of sight, the older woman turned to him expectantly. “Can you let me in?” 

 

Again, he just gave her a look, silently conveying that he was clearly not as invested in this timeline as she was. 

 

The woman just rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m her mother, alright?” 

 

Robin hesitated before simply sighing and reaching for the key card in his pocket. He opened the door and she breezed past him without so much as a glance in his direction. 

 

“Have a good evening ma’am,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head to himself. 

 

Robin always hated babysitting. It was long, annoying and nothing interesting ever happened. 

 

At least that’s what he thought... until he heard the screams. 

 

\------------------

 

The breeze felt nice. 

 

It was a strange thing to think in the moment but it did.

 

As she swung her legs over the wall of the four foot balcony, she could feel the wind against her face. It was soft and cool. Seemed like the only thing she could real at the moment. 

 

Staring down at the ground below she let tears stream down her face. She was sixteen floors up. Not so high that the people looked like ants, but high enough to get the job done that was for sure. 

 

She held onto the railing, thinking of how easy it would be to let go. To just end it all, to not have to deal with the shitty music, and the skintight clothes and the bullshit and the emptiness that seemed to have permanently lodged itself in her chest. She could just end it. One swift jump into the wind and it would stop. 

 

It’s not the first time she’s thought about it. Not even close. 

 

Truthfully, she doubts anyone would even miss her. Queenie, maybe, but not her. Not Regina. 

 

No one has seen Regina in years. She’d been dying for years, why not make it official. 

 

She toes off one of her heels and letting it drop from her foot. As she watches it fall to the street she hears the door open and hears her mother’s voice calling her. 

 

Once soft and curiously, as if wondering where the hell she is. 

 

Then sharp and frightened. Closer. 

 

“QUEENIE! OH MY GOD!” 

 

_ Queenie _ , she thinks.  _ Of course _ . 

 

She know if she’ll turn she see her mother there, probably looking angry or scared, she’s not sure which. Not even turning to look, she lifts one hand from the railing and waves it behind her, hoping to hold Cora off. 

 

“Just… stay back,” she mumbles, hardly recognizing her own voice. God, she sounds so tired. She feels so tired. It’d be bliss to close her eyes and never open them again. It’d be for the best. 

 

There are more footsteps, rapid ones and she hears her mother go quiet. There’s someone else there, a man, softly telling her mother to stay where she is. She doesn’t recognize him, not by voice at least. 

 

“Hey… Queenie… what’s going on?” 

 

His voice comes out soft, gentle… pleading. 

 

“Can… can you look at me for a second, please? Please…. Please?” 

 

She doesn’t want to look at him but he’s begging her, he’s begging in her that soft gentle voice of his, far softer than she’s used to, far gentler than she deserves. 

 

She turns to look. It’s him. That cop who stood outside her door, of course. He’s staring at her, three feet away, blue eyes wide and drowning with concern. His body is tense, completely on edge and ready to move at the drop of a pin… ready to catch her if she tries to fall. 

 

“Queenie…” he cautiously drawls, “let’s just talk.” 

 

She lets out a shuddering breath when he says that name. Queenie. Of course that’s who he’s here for. It’s the only thing anyone sees anymore. Not her. She’s disappeared completely. 

 

She shakes her head at him, feeling another tear run down her cheek. “You still can’t see me,” she mumbles. 

 

Turning back to face the street she takes a deep breath… and shakily pushes away from the railing. 

 

Everything that happens next, happens fast. 

 

She hears her mother let out a high-pitched streak as the cop calls out for her. For a split second she feels a cold rush of air against her skin.  _ This is it _ , she thinks,  _ it’s over. I’m done _ .  

 

Then a sharp pain goes through her shoulder and everything stops. There’s no more wind against her skin, just the harsh pain of his fingers digging into her forearm. 

 

She looks up, shocked, and gasps when he realizes that he’s caught her. Sixteen floors above the ground, still dangling over the balcony but he’s got her. For now at least. 

 

She can see him gritting his teeth as he struggles to hold on. His hand is clutching her arm, but his palms are sweating and his grip is his failing him. They both can feel it. 

 

“Grab my hand,” he orders, reaching down for her. “Grab my hand!” 

 

She just closes her eyes. She’s so tired. She doesn’t want to grab his hand, doesn’t want to go back to her life, to all the blinding lights and people who look her through her as if it’s their job. She doesn’t want to go back. 

 

“Hey! Hey look at me!” he shouts, still straining to pull her up. “Look at me!” 

 

She whimpers but does as he asks. Opening her eyes, she sees his blue eyes, clear as day, honest as night, looking back down at her. 

 

“I see you,” he says. 

 

There’s no urgency in his tone, no imploring or pleading. He says it like it’s real, like he means it. 

 

“I see you,” he repeats. 

 

They’re more than words. Hearing them come from him, seeing the way he’s looking at her now, like he’d do anything to save her. She believes him. 

 

He sees her. 

 

He wants her to live. 

 

And in that moment it’s not everything… but it’s enough. 

 

Gritting her teeth, she reaches up to take his hand, groaning in pain as he pulls her up, finally managing bring her back onto the balcony. She falls into his arms, gasping for air as if she’s trying to remember what it feels like to breath. Holding onto him tight she opens her eyes and sees the platinum nametag pinned to his chest. 

 

**LOCKSELY**

 

She looks up and finds herself staring into those blue eyes again. Breathless, she takes in his face, realizing it’s the first time she’s allowed herself to actually see him. The man who saved her. If she could stop time just to drink him in, she would. 

 

But unfortunately, she couldn’t. 

 

She feels a pair of arms wrap around her from behind, hears her mother’s voice in her ear, quiet and shuddering as she whispers for her to come back into the room. Officer Locksely, remains stunned on the balcony, watching as Cora comes to whisk her inside as gently as possible. Her eyes never leave him, not as she walks back into the room, or when her mother sits her on the bed, comfortingly running her fingers through her hair. The whole time she keeps her eyes on him, still amazed at what he had done for her. 

 

Then her mother closes the curtains. 

 

He disappears behind the thick white fabric and she’s alone again. Trembling on the bed, holding onto her mother, letting the dark weight of what she’d just tried to do sink into her bones. 

 

Oh god… what did she do? 


End file.
